


Patience in Love

by GlitterPan



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adorable Faramir, Child Abuse, Many Round Characters, Multi, Neglect of Child, Protective Boromir, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterPan/pseuds/GlitterPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir and Faramir run into a girl, quite literally. As the years go by, this girl becomes more and more integrated into their lives. But what secrets is she hiding? And what will happen when Boromir goes with the Fellowship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Boromir was there the night his mother died. He had been ten years old at the time.

His mother had gone into premature labor. For hours Boromir sat with his father, Denethor, until a nurse came out. She had tears streaming down her face. She said a few quiet words with Denethor, who proceeded to rush into the room his wife was in. Boromir followed him.

His mother lay, deathly pale, on the bed. In her arms was a tiny baby, almost small enough to fit into Denethor's palm. One of the nurses came and took the baby gently out of his mothers arms. Denethor sat down in the chair next to the bed and wept next to his dying wife. Boromir stood in the corner, forgotten and confused.

Then the nurse noticed him. She lead him gently into the hall, and made him sit down. She shifted the baby in her arms, and then quietly explained to Boromir that his mother had been too weak to survive the birth, and was about to die. Boromir stood for a moment, shocked, and then started to sob.

The nurse comforted him gently, and then asked him if he would like to hold the baby. 'It might comfort him' she had said. Boromir had agreed, more for the baby's sake than his own. The nurse set the tiny bundle in his arms, and he looked down on the face of his brother for the first time.

He was frightfully small, but the nurse told him that that was normal with early babies. He had little wisps of golden hair starting on his head, barely even there. His eyes were a misted blue, almost gray, but not quite. He looked exactly like his mother.

As he held the new-born baby in his arms, Boromir felt a surge of emotion that, as a ten year old boy, was extremely new to him. Though he had felt it before with his mother and father, this was different. He felt an amazing love for the little boy.

He knew that he could never let anything happen to the child. He knew that this little bundle, barely big enough to qualify as a being, was more precious than any material thing, was so frail and fragile that it needed to be protected. So Boromir whispered in his little brother's ear, words that, later in his life, became a standard that he lived by, a goal to always uphold.

" I promise you, little brother, that I shall never let anything happen to you. I promise…."

Two years had passed since that night. Faramir was still very small, and very frail. To make matters worse, his father seemed to refuse to accept the boy. He was harsh and cruel to him, even though he was only a child.

Boromir was twelve now. He had grown more mature in those two years than most fifteen year olds, and had acted as mother, father, and brother to Faramir. He had always kept the boy out of trouble, as much so as he could.

" Bor'mir!" Came a tiny voice as the two year old came toddling into Boromir's room. Boromir smiled and swung the baby high into the air, and then let the giggling toddler come to rest on top of his shoulders.

" What shall we do today, little brother?" Asked Boromir. He guided Faramir down from his shoulders and let him fall onto the mattress of Boromir's bed. The two-year-old giggled, and then said,

" Le's go in the market, Bor'mir!" Cried the little boy. The market was one of his favorite places, and the people of Minas Tirith simply adored him, even if his father didn't.

Smiling, Boromir agreed.

The walk down to the market-place was uneventful, with nothing more than a few greeting's from the guards, and a few maids fawning over Faramir. Then they got to the market place itself.

The colorful stalls all competed for a their attention, awnings casting little pockets of shade. The voices of people haggling over prices and promoting their wares. The smells of the different foods and flowers were practically over-whelming, and the different swords and silks and things of the like all competed for the attention of the eye.

As they walked through they were greeted by many different people, all of them over-joyed to see the sons of their steward. They immediately offered up their wares, telling the brothers to take whatever they wanted. Faramir laughed as Boromir politely declined.

Finally, as the novelty wore off, the people started to go back to what they had been doing. The two brothers walked through the stalls, admiring the different baubles and trinkets. At one point Boromir bought them both a sweet, sticky pastry that was Faramir's favorite. The vendor had almost point-blank refused the money, but Boromir had insisted.

It was as they were heading back up to the castle that things started to get really interesting.

They were walking through the very end of the vendors on the path back to the castle when a figure burst from the crowd and ran straight into Boromir. Faramir, who had been holding Boromir's hand, looked surprised as his brother went careening into the ground, the mysterious figure falling on top of him.

Boromir found himself cushioning the fall of a girl. She looked roughly his age, but she was very thin and bedraggled. She looked shocked, so she obviously hadn't meant to assail him in such a manner.

She was thin, and shorter than him. She had long, dark brown hair that fell past her waist in a braid, and bright green eyes. They had a spark of liveliness in them, but Boromir could see something haunting in those eyes, some sadness that was plaguing her.

She immediately started to get up, begging his forgiveness.

" I'm so sorry Sir, I wasn't watching where I was going." She said, her head bowed in humbleness.

" No, it wasn't your fault. We were kind of in the way." Said Boromir, standing and helping her up. Her cheeks flushed and she gave a small grin.

" Why are you in such a hurry, anyways?" Asked Boromir, simply out of curiosity. A scared look came over the girls face as she remembered something, and she immediately started fidgeting.

" I have to get home!" She cried anxiously, but there was a certain pallor to her that told Boromir she was very afraid. " I'm late, I must get home!"

Faramir, making himself known for the first time since the girl had run into them, walked up to her and pulled lightly on her skirt. She jumped, but then looked down and her gaze softened.

" Wha' are you late for?" Asked the little two year old innocently. The girl smiled and knelt so that she was level with him.

" My father wanted me to be home by two hours after noon. It is now two and a half hours after noon, and I have yet to get home." She explained to the little boy, who nodded knowledgeably, and started sucking on his thumb absentmindedly, as was a habit of his.

The girl stood, and then looked to Boromir.

" I am sorry, My Lord, but I really must be going. I apologize again for knocking you down." She said guiltily.

" It was no fault of yours. But please, if your father wishes you home, do not let me be the one to keep you!" He said with a smile. She grinned, and gave a short curtsy before hurrying away.

It wasn't until later that Boromir realized that he had forgotten to ask her name.


	2. Chapter Two

"Boromir, why are you covered in dirt?" Asked Denethor the second they entered the Grand Hall. Boromir looked himself over and realized that he was indeed covered with dirt. It must have happened when he'd run into that girl.

" Did Faramir push you?" Accused Denethor, completely ignoring the fact that Faramir wasn't strong enough to push over a newborn colt, much less the sturdily built Boromir. It didn't matter to him, as long as he could find some fault in his youngest son.

Boromir gritted his teeth. He must not speak out against his Father. If he did, the consequences would be placed on Faramir.

" No, Father. It was my fault. I wasn't watching where we were going, so someone ran into us, and we fell." He said, still holding Faramir's hand in his. Denethor snorted, seemingly not believing him. He didn't think his son to be that clumsy, and still wished to find fault in Faramir, even though Faramir's true faults were few and far between.

" Well Father, we must go. It is time for Faramir to take a nap." He quickly rushed his little brother out of the room, travelling down the first few halls at a fast walk, then slowing down when he felt that there was enough distance between the two and their father.

" Do I r'lly 'ave to 'ake a nap?" Asked Faramir through a yawn. Boromir smiled and picked up his younger brother who was quick to rest his head on Boromir's shoulder and close his eyes, dosing right there against his brother. Boromir smiled at the stubborn little boy.

They walked down the hall that contained both of their rooms, along with Faramir's playroom ( that Denethor knew absolutely nothing about, seeing as Boromir had done it completely on his own) and several guest rooms that were never used, because Denethor did not trust any of his visitors to be that close to his son. Of course, if Faramir's room was anywhere else, Denethor would have gladly placed his most dangerous mercenaries on the same corridor.

As Boromir was setting Faramir down on the bed in Boromir's room, the little toddler sleepily opened his eyes a crack, and yawned out a question.

"Bor'mir?" Asked Faramir with a yawn.

" Hm?" Answered Boromir distractedly as he fixed the blankets over his brother.

" D'ya thin' the nice lady go' home on time?" He asked, speak slurring beyond his usual two year old lisp because of his exhaustion. Boromir smiled, and then answered his brother as he joined him on the bed, laying on top of the covers, planning to stay till his brother was all the way asleep.

"Yes, Faramir, I think she did."

At the same time, far away, across several of the tiers of the White City, a girl was sitting in her room.

The word room was used very loosely in this case. The small space was originally meant to be a storage space, barely four feet deep and three feet high. The only light source came from a small candle that was burnt down to almost a nub. She'd been saving up money from odd jobs for a while now to try and earn enough to buy a new one.

She sat hunched over with her legs in bent in front of her. Her arm was cradled between her knees and her chest, and her breathing was ragged.

It had been bad this time. She had been very late, and He had not taken kindly to that. She winced as she shifted and felt one of her ribs pop. No, He definitely had not taken kindly to it.

She had been sent out to gather a small herb that grew near the walls in one of the tiers. It was a very useful herb, and they had been running low. He had told her to be back by high noon.

Only after she had finished picking the sweet smelling herb and stowing it away in the small bag that hung on her hip had she run into the street performer. He had been playing music on a violin, and it had been beautiful. She had stayed and listened to him playing, and she had lost herself in the music. It was only when she had looked up and noticed the position of the sun in the sky did she realize what time it was.

That was when she got very, very scared.

He was furious when she had gotten home. The beating had been an intense one, and she was lucky to come away from it with as few injuries as she did.

She did a quick inventory of what she knew was broken. One of her ribs. Maybe her wrist, and if it wasn't it was very badly sprained. That would make fixing dinner for Him very hard.

Her head hurt. She thought it might have been from when He had shoved her back into the wall. It had bled for a long time, and it was still aching.

She went on for some time like this, listing her various hurts and aches in her head. It was a smaller number, considering. At least one good thing had happened today.

She had run into a stranger. And instead of yelling at her and hitting her, the nice looking, obviously upper-class boy had helped her up, and let her talk to the sweet little boy that was with him.

It was not often she had something good to focus on at the end of the day. She decided that it was a good feeling.


End file.
